Her Death

Her death,
It was something, I won't ever accept,

She might have not breastfed me,

But her warmth made me,

She had dressed me up for school,

Fed me with delicious food,

And everyone claims that,

I was spoilt by her.

Many things that,

I want to do for her,

But if she move on so early,

How will i ever do that?

The little plant that she planted,

Grew into a big tree that gave,

Shade and fruit to all,

And she wasn't there to see it.

Her teeth might have fallen,

Eyesight weak,

But she worked to her bone everyday,

And i hope she never works in her life again,

And rules like a queen,

But she already was a one,

A kind and generous one,

And we were her subjects.

When I think of the day of her departure,

I seem to ask myself if,

I will be able to stand?

Will I be able to cry?

Can I ever stop crying?

Will I miss her?

Will I ever be able to stop myself from missing her?

Thoughts run wild,

And so does emotion.

~SRUTHAKIRTI.M